


The Unusuals

by wheel_pen



Series: Lennox and Cassia [3]
Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Unusuals
Genre: Alternate Universe, Cosmic Partners (wheel_pen), F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-12
Updated: 2016-08-12
Packaged: 2018-08-08 08:33:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,806
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7750648
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wheel_pen/pseuds/wheel_pen
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Lennox is New York City homicide detective Jason Walsh, who with his partner Casey Shraeger is on a mysterious road trip through the South, searching for who or what he won’t say. Then he starts zooming in on a young wife and mother in a small town, who improbably seems to know him. Just a few scenes.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Unusuals

**Author's Note:**

> The bad words are censored. That’s just how I do things. I own nothing and appreciate the chance to play in this universe.

 

Casey didn’t know why she was at the little gas station in the middle of nowhere, but she used the ladies’ room and grabbed some snacks because she also didn’t know when the next stop would be. This was their third day on the road, meandering across the South through sleepy little towns, forests, and farmlands where no self-respecting New Yorker should go. Walsh refused to tell her what he was doing or where he was going. Granted, she didn’t think he _knew_ where he was going, not that that made things any better.

She walked back out to the car, dreading getting back in it for more hours on the endless highways. Walsh leaned against the side, impatience radiating from him even as he held himself tightly coiled, his arms crossed over his midsection. “Little faster, Shraeger,” he advised.

She rounded the front of the car a little more quickly. “What is it?” she asked.

“We’re really close,” he insisted, getting into the driver’s seat.

“When we pulled in here you were worried we’d gotten turned around,” Casey reminded him.

“I got my bearings.” Walsh pulled out onto the highway, heading due west.

“Since we’re really close,” Casey ventured, tearing open a bag of chips, “how about sharing what we’re close _to_?”

Walsh smirked in an unamused way. “I told you not to come with me,” he pointed out, eyes on the road. “I told you it would be frustrating.”

“Who’s frustrated?” Casey claimed, trying to look more casual. “So we’re headed to…” She waited for a sign to pass. “Oklahoma?”

“Yes,” Walsh agreed. Followed by, “I think.” Casey sighed.

**

Walsh was irritated again. They’d pulled off the highway in Oklahoma, driven through a couple of small towns, a few scary unincorporated areas where Casey was sure someone was going to come after them with a shotgun. On the first day she’d given up on the idea that she could help look, if she knew what they were looking for—it had moved him only to annoyance, not explanation. So now she just sat back, playing little guessing games about what could attract his attention in these places.

Walsh turned into the parking lot of a diner and just sat there, his eyes far away. Casey had offered to drive and been turned down; when she insisted it lasted for all of an hour before she got tired of him constantly changing the direction they were headed. “Walsh?” she finally asked after a long moment.

He came back to Earth. “Hmm? Oh. Yeah, we’re really close,” he told her again, and got out of the car. Casey followed with a sigh.

They went inside and Casey started to take a seat at a nearby table, but Walsh stopped her. “We’re not staying long.” Instead he marched up to the counter and flashed his badge at the older man standing behind it. It went by too quickly for the man to realize it said New York, and his posture stiffened slightly. “We’re looking for a girl,” Walsh told the man quietly, with his serious detective face on. “White, blue eyes, about five-three, maybe twenty years old.”

The man blinked at him. “That could be a lot of people,” he pointed out.

“She’s beautiful,” Walsh added, somewhat reluctantly. “Not just pretty, but drop-dead gorgeous. Great figure, curvy.” Casey tried to look like she knew what he was talking about.

The older man looked thoughtful. “Well, I guess there’s one person that comes to mind,” he admitted. He nodded towards the end of the counter. “See that big fella down there?” To say the man in question looked like a high school football player gone to seed, who probably drank too much, fought dirty in bar fights, and lived in a trailer, was the worst kind of stereotyping. Yet Casey had a feeling it was probably true. “He’s pretty tough. I wouldn’t go askin’ him about her unless it was important.”

“It’s important,” Walsh assured him.

“Well, his name’s Joe.” And that seemed to be all the help he was willing to give.

Walsh shrugged and walked down to Joe. He didn’t seem bothered by the people who stared at them, being strangers in nice clothes who weren’t eating. “Joe?”

Joe glanced at them then turned back to his gravy-soaked meal, unimpressed. “Who wants to know?”

“Police.”

“Well, you sure ain’t local,” Joe judged, giving Casey a lewd once-over. Her eyes narrowed dangerously.

“We’re from the city,” Walsh told him vaguely. “We’re looking for a girl, about twenty, five-foot-three, blue eyes. Ring a bell?”

Joe snorted. “That supposed to be funny?”

“How so?” Walsh asked evenly.

“Evabelle,” Joe pronounced distinctly. “My _wife_. That who you’re lookin’ for?”

“She’s twenty?” Casey couldn’t help asking. Joe was easily twice that.

“Nineteen, actually,” Joe corrected. “We start ‘em up young around here, missy,” he added, in a smug, nasty tone.

“You have a picture?” Walsh asked, and Joe frowned.

“No. What do I look like, a p---y?” Casey rolled her eyes.

“Well where can we find her?” Walsh pressed, getting slightly impatient. “We need to talk to her.”

“What about?”

“It’s a private matter. Police business.”

“Listen, Mr. Big City Cop,” Joe began, and the people sitting next to him prudently moved away. “Whatever you gotta say to my wife, you better say to me _first_. What are you askin’ about her for? She ain’t even ever gone outta town in years.”

“Let’s see some ID,” Walsh insisted. Casey had a feeling this was not going to go over well and kept her eyes on the other patrons, watching to see if any tried to intervene.

Joe slid off the stool and loomed over Walsh. “I don’t feel like showin’ no f-----g ID,” he boomed. “You got legit police business, you take it up with the sheriff. Happens to be my cousin, by the way. Next time I see you, he better be with you, or you’re gonna wish you stayed in the city!”

Walsh looked like he might really force the issue. He looked _angry_ , and that was bad for everyone. Casey inserted herself between the two men. “That’s a very good idea,” she told Joe in a placating tone. “We’re going to consult with the sheriff right now.” She gripped Walsh’s arm hard as she turned and after a few tugs he broke his staring contest with Joe and walked away with her.

They made it safely to the car and Casey expected her partner to chew her out for interfering, though she had a few choice words to say to him as well about what on Earth they were doing here. However, aside from slamming the car door shut, Walsh’s thoughts remained hidden from her.

He started the car and turned back on the highway, then pulled off at the next exit and began navigating a series of unpaved back roads. “Where are we going?” Casey risked asking.

“To see Evabelle,” he replied. It was probably the most forthright answer he’d given her so far, and it still meant almost nothing.

“But who _is_ Evabelle?” Casey pressed. “Nineteen, five-three, blue eyes. Beautiful and curvy.” She couldn’t help but add the last part a bit sarcastically.

“Apparently so,” was all Walsh said.

“And how do you know where to find her?” This received no answer at all, but Walsh looked increasingly confident as he twisted down the country lanes, taking roads Casey wouldn’t even have identified as something you were supposed to drive on.

Finally they pulled up to a trailer on a patch of barren ground. There was a shed nearby with the door half falling off, some incongruously bright flowers in a window box, a lot of junk in the yard—and an angry dog who jumped at Casey’s window seemingly from nowhere, barking and snarling with a rabid fury.

She cleared her throat, trying to pretend she hadn’t squealed in alarm. “Nice place. Very cozy. How did you find it?”

“I’ll get the dog,” Walsh replied instead. Before Casey could object he jumped out of the car, calling to the dog who wasted no time turning his dark gaze on him. Casey opened her door, hand on her gun in case she needed to save her reckless partner—she was already trying to remember the way out of this hick maze back to the highway—when suddenly the barking stopped. Walsh and the dog were just looking at each other, like they were communicating telepathically or something crazy like that; and then the dog turned and trotted off to the shed.

“Come on,” Walsh said to Casey impatiently, already striding up to the door. “Watch out for Joe.” He banged on the thin, metallic door, seemingly rattling the whole trailer. “Open the door, honey,” he called, his voice surprisingly gentle and cajoling. “I know you’re in there.”

A hesitation, and then finally the sound of locks being unhitched. The door was pushed open slowly and a girl stood there holding a baby on her hip, her posture uncertain. She and Walsh both caught their breath as they stared at each other, like they recognized each other from long ago, or a dream. She was indeed beautiful, with full lips, dark brown hair tumbling past her shoulders, piercing blue eyes, and a figure that couldn’t be hidden by her old jeans and stained shirt.

Casey finally cleared her throat, breaking the spell, and the girl’s eyes flickered over to her. “Um, are you Evabelle?” she asked.

“Yes,” she answered. “Evabelle Johnson.” Her voice was huskier than Casey expected and slightly scratchy, like she had a cold.

“Can we come in?” Walsh asked and Evabelle backed up from the door, allowing them entry into the trailer. It was sparse but clean, the furniture nicked and torn, the appliances rusty. It smelled vaguely like cinnamon, though, which was pleasant. “Jason Walsh,” he told the girl. “I’m a homicide detective in New York City.”

Evabelle seemed impressed with this and smiled. “Wow, New York City? Like _Law & Order_. Oh, sorry,” she added, catching sight of Casey behind Walsh’s shoulder. “Do you want something to drink, or—?”

“Sure, I could use a—“ Casey began, but Walsh cut her off.

“We’re fine. I want you to come back with me,” he told Evabelle, as Casey’s eyes widened in surprise.

“To New York City?” Evabelle checked, as though she couldn’t believe it either.

“The place I’ve got now isn’t much,” he admitted, “but I’ve got some money, we can get someplace nicer.” Wait, now he was going to _live_ with her? “And we don’t have to stay in New York,” he added, beginning to sound a little bit desperate. “We can go anywhere you want.” And now he was offering to give up his _job_ for her? Casey was completely flummoxed at this point and beginning to wonder if her partner was having some kind of a slow-burning nervous breakdown.

Evabelle’s eyes filled with tears and Walsh pulled her close, just for a moment until the baby started to fuss. “I just need to pack a few things for him,” the girl said, indicating the child. She brushed quickly at her eyes, obviously feeling that tears were impractical right now.

Walsh kissed her forehead and took the baby. “Okay, go ahead.” Evabelle squeezed past Casey into the other part of the trailer, quickly throwing items into a shopping bag.

As Walsh turned to watch her he seemed to remember they weren’t alone. “This is my partner, Casey Shraeger,” he introduced.

“Like a police partner?” Evabelle asked politely. “You’re so young and pretty to be a homicide detective.”

“Um, thanks,” Casey replied, since it seemed like she meant well. “So how do you two—“

Walsh cut her off again. “She used to work Vice,” he conveyed mischievously to Evabelle. “They made her dress up like a hooker.” Clearly he was in a good mood now.

“Oh, wow, I didn’t know that really happened,” Evabelle admitted.

“It does,” Casey assured her, awkwardly.

“What’s his name?” Walsh asked of the baby, who burbled happily at him.

“Well, I guess he’s Joe Junior,” Evabelle replied, not sounding thrilled with the choice. “Mostly I just call him Junior, so…”

“Hmm, Jason Walsh, Junior,” Walsh tried out speculatively, and now Casey thought her head was really going to explode if she didn’t get some answers.

“Can I talk to you outside for a sec?” she asked Walsh in a low voice.

“Sure, okay.” He put the baby down in his high chair. “We’ll just be outside,” he promised Evabelle, who had looked up worriedly, as if she thought they might vanish on her.

They stepped back down the rickety stairs and shut the trailer door. Casey figured it wasn’t exactly soundproofed so she tried to keep her voice down. “Are you going to tell me what the h—l is going on now?” she demanded.

She could see from Walsh’s expression it was going to be something literal and unhelpful. “We’re taking Evabelle and the baby back to New York,” he summarized. “Probably at least three days on the road. And we’ll have to stop and get her some clothes or something,” he mused. “Oh, you can help with that.” Before Casey could respond to this he popped back up and opened the door to the trailer again. “Do you have a car seat?”

“Sure, it’s over in the corner,” Evabelle told him. “Sorry, I just keep thinking of things I don’t want to be on the road without, with a baby—“

“It’s okay,” Walsh assured her, carrying the car seat out. “Take your time.”

Casey followed him to the car. “Who _is_ this woman?” she hissed. “How do you know her?”

Walsh installed the car seat expertly. “This is a pretty old model,” he observed with disapproval. “We should pick up a new one somewhere. Walmart usually carries these things, don’t they?”

“How would _I_ know?” Casey snapped. She heard a noise and looked up to see a cloud of dust in the direction of the road. “Oh, s—t. Someone’s coming!”

This, at least, Walsh found important. “S—t,” he echoed. “Okay, you get in the trailer with Evabelle and the baby. Get them down.”

Outrage shot through Casey. “Are you stuffing me inside with the women and children?” she huffed as the vehicle drew closer. “I am your _partner_ , don’t treat me like—“

“Shraeger,” he snapped, squeezing her arms. “Get inside and cover me from the window. If that’s Joe he is _not_ gonna like what we’re doing here.”

“Right, okay,” Casey agreed, reversing quickly when she saw his plan. She hopped back into the trailer, catching Evabelle on her way out with the baby. “Someone’s coming. Go sit on the floor over there.” Miraculously the girl did as she was told. Casey raised the window, trying to peer out without being seen, as Walsh waited near the car.

A dusty blue truck pulled into the yard, and indeed it was Joe, and indeed he didn’t like what they were doing here. “You better get the f—k off my property, city boy!” he threatened furiously.

“We will, Joe,” Walsh assured him. “We will, and Evabelle’s leaving with us.”

“The f—k she is!” Joe declared, and he swung one of his meaty fists at Walsh. Amazingly the other man ducked and jumped away.

“You’re not gonna let her go?” Walsh checked, circling around the car with Joe following pugnaciously. “Not even for money? A lot of money? A hundred grand?”

“You ain’t got a hundred grand!” Joe deduced, though he appeared to have momentarily considered the idea. He was a real prince.

“Well, okay,” said Walsh, and then he punched him. Decked Joe square in the jaw and sent him sprawling into the dirt, where he seemed content to stay.

Casey was still open-mouthed when she exited the trailer. “How did you do that?” she asked in astonishment.

“Lucky punch,” Walsh claimed. “Evabelle! It’s okay, come on.” He took the bag for her and helped her down the steps.

“Is he dead?” she wanted to know, as Walsh settled Junior into the car seat.

Casey was tempted to check his pulse. “No, he’s not dead,” Walsh replied. It was hard to tell how either of them felt about that. Evabelle got in the back next to the car seat, and Walsh got behind the wheel. “Shraeger!” he prompted. “You coming?”

Of course she was coming. Because she wasn’t letting him out of her sight without some answers.

**

Walsh was actually pretty good about doing paperwork, better than most cops in Casey’s experience but not so good as to be weird. Except for how perfectly spelled everything was. She suspected he kept a dictionary somewhere at his desk, maybe buried at the back of his bottom drawer where someone else might keep their porn stash.

This was what she thought about when she didn’t want to do paperwork herself.

Walsh’s cell phone rang and he answered it with a smile, so it must be Evie. “Hey, where are you?” he asked her. “Are you nearby?”

Casey had not gotten sufficient explanation about Evie; but she’d been invited to their tiny courthouse wedding when no one else from the squad had, and she had dinner with them both at least twice a month. Evie was sweet and Walsh was happy with her and his instant son, and a happy partner was better than the opposite.

“Come over here and meet me,” Walsh was saying into the phone. “We’ll go have lunch together. Oh, I’m sure you’re fine. Come on.” She gave in. “Okay, see you soon.” He hung up.

“How’s Evie?” Casey asked. Walsh was too smart to be surprised by her easy deduction.

“She says she’s not dressed properly for visiting a police station,” Walsh replied, rolling his eyes affectionately. “I don’t even know what that means, she’s out shopping with Junior, how bad can it be?”

“You guys didn’t find a house yet, did you?” Casey asked, since she didn’t trust him to tell her when they did.

“No,” he shrugged. “She kind of likes living at the back of the restaurant. But it’s freezing in the winter, the insulation is c—p. Either we move or we seriously remodel.”

Casey thought about reminding him that her cousin was a real estate agent, a good one, but she’d said it before a couple times and didn’t want to be pushy. Plus she suspected Megan might be used to showing properties with more digits in their prices than Walsh was looking for.

They did paperwork for a few more minutes. Criminals were apparently out basking in the sunshine today instead of killing people. Then suddenly Walsh looked up towards the doorway and smiled. Casey looked up too and then quickly looked away to compose herself before smiling and waving. Evie was standing there with Junior in her arms and a suspicious-looking officer at her shoulder who shot narrow glances between her and Walsh even as he waved her over. Casey couldn’t blame the duty officer, who’d been presented with a teenage mother in cut-off jeans and a midriff-baring shirt claiming to be the wife of a homicide detective.

Evie didn’t do anything particularly sexy as she walked across the room, but she didn’t have to; everyone stopped and stared at her pretty quickly, especially when Walsh stood and kissed her, and then took the baby from her in a comfortable way. “Hi, Casey,” she greeted cheerfully.

“Hey, Evie,” Casey responded, carefully not looking at anyone else. She didn’t want to get trapped into explaining this.

“This is your desk? It’s so professional-looking,” Evie admired, sincerely. “Very sophisticated.”

“I’m not sure anyone else would describe it that way,” Walsh acknowledged with a smirk. “Here, I’ll show you around. These are the Wanted posters. Look at all those bad people, Junior,” he added as the baby reached out randomly. “Oh, you picked a winner there. He’s a carjacker.”

Evie was not as immune to criminal activity as Walsh was. “Are you looking for all these people?” she asked with uncertainty. “Did they all—kill someone?”

“Maybe you shouldn’t read those,” he decided prudently, steering her away. “Here’s a map of the city. Here’s where we are now, and here’s where we live.”

“What are all those thumbtacks for?” Evie asked.

“Um, current cases,” Walsh answered vaguely. He glanced around at other things he could show her and seemed to realize this was not perhaps the best idea. Weapons locker, no. Holding cell, definitely not. Public notice board with all the mandatory sexual harassment policies and disaster plans? Not so much. “Maybe we should go to lunch,” he decided.

“Yesterday’s crime reports!” Beaumont called, coming around with the clipboard.

“Walsh, where did you put yours?” Casey asked, sifting through the piles on his desk.

He walked over to dig it out, leaving Evie to look at the map. “So who’s this little fella?” Beaumont asked with a grin, playing with the baby’s hand.

“Junior,” Walsh answered enigmatically. He and Beaumont had been close once, not really that long ago, and Casey wondered if it had occurred to him that she might be hurt by his instant family. “Technically he’s my stepson right now, but I’m adopting him.”

“Stepson?” Beaumont stuttered. Her eyes flickered over to Evie, then back to Walsh, eyebrows raised. Then they went to Casey. “Come here and tell me all about this, Shraeger,” she insisted prudently, drawing Casey off to the side. She knew Walsh liked his secrets too much to spill anything useful.

But Casey had a certain loyalty to her partner, which she knew Walsh didn’t doubt—she saw the smirk on his lips, knowing she would have to come up with something that satisfied Beaumont but didn’t betray him.

The other detective gave her a pointed look and Casey leaned over to whisper in her ear. “Teenage mom in a bad situation,” she said, which was perfectly true. “You know how he gets.”

Beaumont knew. “He’s never actually—are they _married_?” she hissed. “And adopting her kid! When did all this happen?”

“It’s been a whirlwind,” Casey sighed, which was also true.

She glanced up to see, of all people, Eddie Alvarez trying to chat up Evie and rolled her eyes. “Hey Alvarez,” Walsh called from across the room. “Are you flirting with my wife?” This immediately regained the attention of anyone who had dared to let their mind drift the last couple minutes.

Alvarez gaped like a fish, trying to figure out if Walsh was just messing with him, then Evie smiled sweetly and skipped back to his side. “Aren’t you going to introduce me to people?” she whispered in his ear.

“Well, I guess I will _now_ ,” he conceded.


End file.
